#dl29

How could a grocery store be so overwhelming? You stood in the produce section with a shopping basket hanging from one arm, staring at the wide variety of assorted vegetables.

You'd been living in your new apartment for exactly two days. You'd been there long enough to get sheets on your bed, appliances in your kitchen, and that was about it. You hadn't even gone grocery shopping yet, choosing instead to survive off of takeout meals until you felt brave enough to leave your apartment.

You picked up an orange, then put it back. A bag of clementines. Not quite. You sighed, disappointed, then set it back with the pile of others.

"Catch," said someone to your right.

You looked up just in time to see a citrus fruit flying towards your face. Thankfully, you reacted fast enough to catch the orange before it hit you in the forehead. The assailant was a guy about your age, standing a few feet away from you with one hand on the handle of his cart.

He was tall, easily at least a foot taller than you. He was wearing a Boston College hockey shirt and shorts, a baseball cap sitting backwards on his head.

You looked down at the orange in your hand and back up at the guy.

"Do you throw oranges at every girl you see?" you asked.

"Just ones who look like they've never been grocery shopping," he said.

"It's not that I've never been," you said. "I've never had to shop for just myself. And I'm new to town, so I've never been to this store."

You looked at the selection of citrus before looking back up at the guy.

"What do you recommend?"

The guy stepped closer. "Well, for one, the Valencia oranges are pretty good. That's the kind I tossed to you."

"Threw at my head," you corrected.

He shrugged. "I missed. Anyway, the Valencias are cheaper than the Navels, so there's that. You look like a college student, so I assume you're on a budget."

You nodded in agreement. "I just transferred to BC," you said.

"That's where I go!" said the guy, a grin lighting up his face.

"I know."

"How?" You pointed at his sweatshirt, which displayed the name of the school in large letters. "Right. What year are you?"

"I'll be a junior," you said.

"No way! Me too! I'm Dean," he said, offering you a hand to shake.

You dropped the orange into your basket and transferred the handle into your left hand so you could shake his.

"Y/N," you said.

"Nice to meet you," said Dean. "I'll see you around?"

'See you around' turned out to be two aisles over when you couldn't reach a box of granola bars because they were too high on the shelf. You stretched onto your toes anyway, arm raised over your head. Your fingers barely grazed the metal shelf.

Thankfully, Dean appeared out of nowhere, stepping beside you and effortlessly grabbing the box of granola bars. He carefully set it in your basket.

"Anything else?" he asked.

You shook your head. "Thank you."

That turned into a conversation in the pasta aisle about the best shapes, and then flavors of tomato sauce. And somehow you two ended up walking through the store together, pointing out food items you liked or wanted to try.

You were about to put a container of vanilla Greek yogurt in your basket, but Dean stopped you before you could.

"This one's my favorite," he said, swapping it with a different container of the same brand: the honey vanilla flavor. "They taste pretty much the same, but the honey vanilla one sounds fancier."

You put it into your basket without asking any questions.

"You trust strangers pretty easily," observed Dean.

You frowned. "I don't usually, actually. You just seem trustworthy, I guess."

"Hey, I'll take it," said Dean.

As you kept wandering the store, you and Dean continued to get to know each other.

"So you're new here, where did you go before?"

"I was out in California," you said. "But I was really close to home and I needed something different. When I was looking at colleges, it was my second choice after my old school, so it felt natural to end up transferring here."

"I think you'll like it here," assured Dean.

"Really?" you asked.

He nodded. "Yeah."

You found yourself smiling. You weren't sure why hearing that from someone you'd met twenty minutes ago mattered, but it did.

"And what brought you to Boston?" you asked. "Hockey?"

Dean nodded again. "Third year on the team."

"Isn't this school like D1 or something?" you asked. "So you must be really good."

He smiled, a blush creeping to his cheeks. "You could say that."

"Are you going to the NHL after college?" you guessed. You could tell by his latest statement that there was something he was hiding.

Dean's face became even redder. "That's my plan. I got drafted to the Bruins two years ago and their affiliate team in Providence offered me a spot this season," he said softly, as though hoping none of the other store patrons could hear him.

Your eyes widened. "That is so cool! But why are you still here if you could have gone there?"

Dean lowered his head so he could speak even quieter. "Between you and me, Providence isn't great for development. So I'd rather stay here, get a little bit of learning in, and then play professionally a little later on. I've got my entire career ahead of me, no need to start too early. Besides, I like it here, my teammates are cool, I have friends from classes and stuff like that."

"When you put it that way, that's kinda smart," you said.

"Only kinda?" Dean teased.

You pinched your pointer finger and thumb together. "Maybe this much," you laughed.

Dean rolled his eyes, but followed you to the bread aisle anyway. Your basket had become noticeably heavier, and when he noticed you switching it from hand to hand to give your arms a break, Dean took the basket from you and placed it in his cart. You looked up, smiling at him gratefully.

"I guess now we have to finish our shopping trip together," you said with a shrug.

"What a shame," he said, sarcasm lacing his voice.

"Okay, let me take my basket back then," you teased.

Dean maneuvered the cart so you had to step past him to get to your items. And there was now way you were getting past that brick wall of a man. "You said we're finishing our shopping trip together, so that's what we're doing," he said. "Let's go check out the flowers. I think I'm going to need a suggestion from you this time."

He led you back to the front of the store, near the produce section, where a display of flower bouquets was visible.

"What's your favorite flower?" asked Dean.

You blinked. For some reason, the question felt unexpectedly personal. You thought for a moment, before settling on one.

"Lilies, maybe," you decided. "What about you?"

"I haven't really thought about it," admitted Dean. "But these are nice, don't you think?"

He picked up a bouquet of a variety of flowers, orange lilies notably sticking out. Little sprigs of white baby's breath were tucked between them.

"Those are pretty," you complimented.

You wondered who the flowers were for. Dean mentioned his family lived in Canada, so they couldn't be for his mom. He hadn't mentioned having a girlfriend, but why else would a college athlete be buying flowers if they weren't for a girl? You hoped that wasn't the case; you found Dean easy to talk to you, and you secretly hoped that there was some chemistry there that wasn't just friendly.

Both of you were done shopping, so you made your way to the registers. You grabbed your basket and split to a neighboring checkout line from Dean. Unfortunately, the person in front of you took forever to pay for their items, so your new friend was finished checking out long before you. But he waited for you anyway, smiling at you as you fumbled to get your card out of your wallet.

Dean insisted on taking your heavier bags, even though you assured him you could manage.

"I've got them," you argued as Dean's hand brushed yours.

"I know you do. But we're walking in the same direction, and maybe I can count this as a warmup for afternoon lift," he joked.

You really didn't want to argue with him, and your bags were a little bit too heavy, so you let him take the two heaviest bags back to your car.

Together, you loaded the bags into your trunk, hands touching occasionally. When you were done, you closed the door gently. There was a brief silence.

"Well," you began, smiling at Dean. "Thank you. It was nice meeting you."

"It was," he agreed.

Neither of you moved. Dean glanced down at the bouquet sticking out of one of his bags. "Oh, wait." He picked it up. You watched curiously as he held them out to you. You looked from the flowers and back up to him.

"What?" you asked, a little confused.

"You said lilies were your favorite," he said.

You nodded. "I did."

He smiled, suddenly looking a little nervous. It was cute, the way his cheeks flushed just slightly pink. "I thought you should have them."

You narrowed your eyebrows. "You bought these...for me?"

Dean nodded. Your heart skipped.

"I thought you were getting them for a girl."

"Yeah, you," he said.

"No, like a girlfriend," you corrected.

Dean laughed quietly. "Nope, no girlfriend. I just thought I might get you a welcome gift. It's probably hard to start a new life halfway through college and not knowing anyone."

"But I know you now," you said.

He beamed. "You do."

You looked down at the flowers in your hands. The orange petals of the lilies were bright against the paper wrapping.

"They're beautiful, Dean," you said.

"I'm glad."

You glanced back up, a smile slowly spreading across your face. "I don't tend to accept flowers from strangers."

"Y/N, are we really still strangers?" Dean asked lightly.

"I suppose we aren't," you agreed.

You reached into your purse for your phone. Dean's expression brightened. You unlocked the device, opening up your contacts app, and holding it out for him.

"Would you put your number in?" you asked sweetly.

Dean accepted your phone and typed his information in, then handed it back to you.

"I'll text you," you promised. You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear with your free hand, the one that wasn't holding the bouquet. "I guess I'll see you around campus."

Dean hesitated slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe before then?"

"I'd like that," you said with a grin.